


The Pansophist Society

by dananeldie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-29 23:26:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14483523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dananeldie/pseuds/dananeldie
Summary: The series which includes a cross-generational cast of characters, canon and not. A good and wholesome combination of mystery and danger along with the softer sentiments (which us humans enjoy so deeply).During the 2004-2005 school year at Hogwarts, a minor inconvenience quickly escalates into a wannabe secret society; sort-of-Death Eater-turned-disgruntled-Ministry-employee Draco Malfoy and the young, plucky, woolgathering Muggleborn Agnes Orwell are called to the scene.Full disclosure, they have no idea what they're doing.





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter One: Detectives on the Case!

It was mid-September, 2004 CE. People were wearing ill-fitting clothes and tapping at their flip phones all through London, and so one Agnes Orwell looked very out of place.

She was a little rough around the edges. She had this rounded nose, and thick, wavy, short brown hair (half up, half down), a frayed coat, and sleepy, morning brown eyes. She was speeding off to work, clutching her willow-wood wand in her pocket, and there was a gleeful earnestness about her.

The sun was in the sky, perched so far above everything. Agnes, in addition to her peculiar attire, had her morning coffee in hand. She was skipping along the sidewalk, trying to find an appropriate alley from which to apparate.

She found one quite quickly. She laughed, disappeared, and then she was in. She warped through space, who-knows-how-many meters underground, to her place of employment that she loved so. In a second, glittering black stone, a constant influx of floo-goers, and countless voices erupted around her. The Ministry was full of new life, young blood, and the bores of bureaucracy were now something to marvel at: after years of rebuilding, things had finally started going the right way.

Not stopping for a second, Agnes released her wand, letting it fall further in the (magically) deep pocket of her coat. She gripped her coffee cup with new ferocity in her right hand and secured the strap of her leather satchel in her left, and she was still running towards the elevator.

There was a near-crash-landing, but she found herself accompanied by fellow government employees, on the way to Level Two. She tried to strike up a conversation, but her shaky breaths and dishevelment ensured that no one would return the offer.

Level Two consisted of two main areas, the Auror Offices (second door left) and the Law Enforcement Patrol (second door right). The Patrol's was a bit smaller, but a fairly large branch of the Magical Law Enforcement Department. Many wizards on the Patrol did great work and were up-and-coming in the world. Agnes, however, was not one of those people.

She came into the Patrol mostly by chance. After she graduated Hogwarts (2001, a year off schedule), her plans had kind of drifted. She'd dreamed, a while back, of being a sort of magical archaeologist, always having best marks in History of Magic. But it wasn't something many people do, and she wasn't aware of any group dedicated to that sort of work, and so she threw an application at various Ministry Departments to see what would stick. She was hoping for the Department of International Magical Cooperation, but even that wasn't really a dream of hers.

You see, the odds were kind of stacked against Agnes. She passed all her tests, sure, did well on the NEWTs that she needed to. But she wasn't extraordinary, and even after the war, a Muggleborn Hufflepuff wasn't high on anyone's to-hire list.

So, she was assigned to the Patrol, but not in the way you'd think. She hadn't seen a second of fieldwork, rather, Agnes's area of expertise was paperwork. Only sometimes was it exciting things, like documenting arrests or gathering files on potential suspects. Most of the time, it was mundane things like expenses, medical records, and god forbid, dealing with the press.

She and a smattering of other low-salary, paperwork-sifting drones sat in the far corner of the Patrol headquarters. She made her way over to her desk, nestled near the filing cabinet she frequented. A fresh, inch-thick folder that comprised her daily assignment was already waiting for her. She got straight to it, filling out forms and chatting with her disenfranchised colleagues.

One of them, however, was the opposite of a talker. He hadn't always been like that, according to Agnes' school memories, but these days he was very focused on his work. He still looked rather elegant, though; she supposed he was a sharp contrast to Agnes in that way.

And so, yeah, it was Draco Malfoy.

___

It was later that day, in the evening. The artificial windows indicate so, a blue-black, starry sky permeating through the room. There was a bit of ruckus, some sort of celebration in the Auror Offices. Agnes rolled her eyes a bit. She eyed Malfoy, who doesn't realize her gaze but looks similarly irritated.

Most of the Patrollers had left. The pencil-pushers really stuck it out, staying typically until the Head of the Patrol left, a tired but stern woman called Henriksen. She emerged from her office, sending a bit of chill down spines, looking around the room, as if there was a particular someone she had in mind.

"Orwell and Malfoy?"

She'd identified Draco, clearly, but it took a little hand-raise for her to remember Agnes. She waved the two of them into her office, without any indication as to why.

Agnes was able to fight her away into Henriksen's office first, with Draco following closely behind. Upon entering, they sat in two fancy leather quilted chairs, and the Head plopped behind her desk. The walls were lined with portraits of the Heads before her. She took notes as she spoke, probably multitasking.

"There's a situation at Hogwarts," Henriksen said, not so much as looking up. "You'll be our envoys."

Draco flinched. Agnes was petrified in shock. This couldn't possibly be right.

"I know what you're thinking, but it's nothing dangerous, that's why I'm sending the two of you," Henriksen clarified, sensing their surprise. That took down the excitement a bit, but the two desk jockeys were beyond confused. "... I'm sure it's nothing... just average mischief, but we've got to send someone down there, especially with Shacklebolt breathing down my neck. Seeing as the two of you are fairly dispensable, no offense to secretaries, and the most recent Hogwarts graduates, I thought you'd be perfect for the job."

Agnes was certainly excited, leg shaking and a hint of a smile on her face. But yet, she hesitated. "Ms. Henriksen, are you sure..."

"Yes, I'm sure. This is an order, not an offer. A Ministry Car will be at your respective residences first thing tomorrow morning to transport you," she said, and she seemed quite finished. Malfoy leaned forward.

"If you don't mind me asking, what's the situation?"

It was the first time she'd heard him speak since school.

Henriksen looked up for the first time. "Oh, I can't say I completely remember. I suppose you'll learn more upon arrival."

And with that, she set down her notes, stood from her chair, picked up her briefcase, and disapparated.

___

The rest of the night was quite peculiar for Agnes. Oh, but her happiness, it did show, although she was alone.

The morning came oddly, rising and embracing itself, smirking. People seemed so far away from her flat, and they peddled along at an unprecedented level of weirdness. As soon as she saw the forest green car roll up out front, though, she was invigorated again, crashing down the fire escape, barely keeping hold of her trunk. Once she was out front, she turned around for a moment, to remember, and then she head out for the curb.

She was alarmed, though, by a flash of white-blond hair in the backseat. She was under the impression that she and Draco would be riding separately. Nonetheless, she was greeted by the kind driver, who stashed her luggage and opened her door.

She was apprehensive of speaking with Malfoy, so she merely made awkward small talk with the driver, until even he grew tired. She focused on the landscape for a while. The city quickly melted into countryside and hills and wildflowers, even quicker considering the car's magical assistance.

She'd only ever really seen or heard Draco from afar; he was two years her senior, and really seemed quite cruel. It made her somber to think of it, to be so young and to be turned so sour. Agnes thought that if things had been different, Malfoy could have been different, but all the same, she felt small around him. To be surrounded by one who thought so low of her kind, though sometimes made her angry, mostly made her afraid. She didn't like to feel that way.

"It's nice to meet you," Agnes said.

Draco looked distressed at the comment. "... You as well."

There was tension, and Agnes quite hated tension. "Are you at all looking forward to returning?" she asked.

"That would be quite impossible," Draco replied, all sharpness and teeth, and it was becoming difficult to ignore his distastefulness.

Silence, time passed. Agnes began again, "I think this should be fun."

Draco was going to say something; Agnes could see it on his face, but he stopped himself. From there, brief back and forth continued throughout the ride, and it so happened that she had a few nice conversations with the man. It mostly centered on the early days, the time at Hogwarts before darkness took up residency in their lives.

"Oh, I was always shit at Transfiguration. Too much maths," Agnes said. "McGonagall probably thought me a dolt."

"Truthfully, I was brilliant at most subjects," Malfoy said, a bit of laughter in his voice. Before Agnes could curse this overconfidence, he continued, "I spent most of my time, unfortunately, torturing my classmates, as you probably know. I fear I could've done something useful."

Begrudgingly, Agnes offered the man some advice. "Well. We're off to Hogwarts, partners on a real mission. After this, I'm sure opportunities will be at every corner."

"Maybe for you..."

"Oh, god, is this the first of many pureblood grievances?" Agnes groaned, because Draco Malfoy certainly did not get to be ticked about his squandered reputation.

"I suppose not," he replied.

And Malfoy smiled.

___

The castle was smaller than she remembered. They pulled into Hogsmeade, and then the driver said politely that they ought to walk from there. There was no snow around yet, only leaves and grass and cold. The trek to the school was not a small one.

"I'm feeling nostalgic!" Agnes exclaimed, letting down her short waves in order to maximize surface area: any was appreciated in this Scottish Highland weather. The pair of them, Orwell and Malfoy, clobbered along, met by a familiar face at the entrance to the grounds.

Headmistress Minerva McGonagall had on her usual emerald robes and poise. She shook both of their hands, though she didn't look overjoyed.

"I will give you the details as we go."

Agnes and Draco hardly knew each other, but in this moment, standing side-by-side and following closely behind their ex-professor, it felt as if they had just been out past bed, or had just been busted for performing a pranking jinx.

"So, Headmistress..." Agnes ventured. "What exactly has been happening?"

"Well, if you'd asked me not a week ago, I would have said nothing at all," the Headmistress admitted. "We may have a... delinquent of sorts, a cruel one. Considering the school's past history with containing security violations... well, the two of you are here to keep up appearances, I suppose."

That's when Malfoy started laughing.

Everything about this situation was weird.

"Are you well, Mr. Malfoy?" McGonagall said, turning back around for a moment.

"If public relations is what the Ministry had in mind, I can't see why I'm here."

"Well, I doubt that's what anyone intended, but Henriksen is a very by-the-books woman, and she insisted there was no one more fit for the post," McGonagall said. "But all of that is beside the point. The attacks have escalated, and I'd rather not take any chances."

Agnes furrowed her brow. The conversation had shifted to something far more serious. "So... what have been the specific incidents, if you don't mind?"

McGonagall gave her a solemn look, with sad, worn eyes. "Well, we've had students report lost personal items. The items were returned but horribly defaced, sometimes with menacing notes. What really spurred bringing the two of you in was Klaus Holmwood... a young one. He was physically attacked. Some sort of premeditated hex was put on him. The poor boy's still in the hospital wing," she explained.

By this time they had woven through the stone paths and entered the castle. They made their way to the Great Hall, the thought of which made Agnes smile a bit. McGonagall pulled out her handkerchief and lightly sneezed, then fixed her posture, preparing her entrance. "The students are at dinner now. I'd like for the two of you to introduce yourselves, say a few words. Perhaps just Orwell should speak, frankly. Mr. Malfoy, try not to look too much like yourself. I do despise receiving owls from parents."

They walked in, and it was yellow. All yellow and orange and light. The candles glittered in her eyes and she felt a warmness around her heart, and Agnes swore she hadn't seen the Great Hall this full of joy since her first or second year.

The students charged at plates filled to the brim with food more delicious than imaginable. They didn't even look up to see who had entered, too busy in their ramblings regarding Potions essays and Quidditch games. Headmistress McGonagall ushered them onto the stage, and all of the sudden they were being introduced.

"Welcome, students," McGonagall paused, waiting for the masses to settle down. Then she began again, still so measured and with such control. "Due to the concerns expressed regarding the recent acts perpetrated against the school, we are pleased to welcome two members of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol, who will remain to investigate and protect us until the situation is fully resolved. They would like to say a few words."

McGonagall made her way back to her grand Headmistress's chair, and Agnes shifted uncomfortably. She edged over towards the podium. Draco was standing nearby, hands behind his back, clearly gleeful at not having to make a statement.

"Hello everyone!" Agnes said, and even though she kind of hated this, it was sort of a thrill. "I'm Agnes Orwell, and this is my partner, Draco Malfoy."

Suddenly, every child ceased any conversation. She could feel Draco's bulging eyes from behind her. Agnes cursed herself-- oh, but weren't they to find out sooner or later?

She continued. "We'll be monitoring the school... but it's not to smother you, or to patrol you, or to get any of you in trouble. We're only here to resolve a temporary security concern. If any student has a grievance or useful information, they should let either of us know. Thank you."

Feeling rather important, Agnes caught up with a leaving Malfoy, and the pair tore through the center aisle, and just as they left chatter began again, in hushed tones.

"Drinks at the Three Broomsticks?" she asked.

"I don't drink," Draco replied.

"Of course you don't."

___

The pair promptly checked into the inn, where their trunks had already been magically transported, but they settled on lingering in the pub. Agnes passionately ordered a Firewhisky, and Draco settled for water. He pulled out a small novel once they got to a table.

"So, why don't you drink?"

By this time, Agnes was on her second, and eyeing Madam Rosmerta for a third.

"I never got around to it," Draco said.

"What does that mean?" Agnes pried, because that was certainly not an answer.

Draco looked up from his book, struggling for words in his frustration, and his face looked kind of funny. "You're very thick, aren't you?"

"That's quite rude! Really. I'm sensing some issues in our partnership. I don't know how you expect us to hunt down the prankster with this attitude--"

"Shut up!" Draco spat, and things were more serious than ever. He looked at her with an intensity so immense that the only possibility was that someone of relevance had just entered the pub.

Agnes, after a moment, took a quick glance behind her. A crowd of professors was walking in, but she couldn't really tell what was the big deal, and then she saw him, and then she exclaimed:

"Harry Potter!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> uh this chapter is HMMM makes u think

Chapter Two:  _The One That Ends and Begins with The Boy Who Lived._

Draco's eyes nearly exploded when he realized she didn't know.

"'What is he doing here?' Are you mad?" he whispered across the table, shielding his face as if that would somehow keep the others from hearing anything. He was so odd like that. "He's the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor!"

Agnes pondered this for a minute, Firewhisky sharp and prickly on her tongue. "You're kidding me, right? Wasn't he an Auror? Could've sworn I'd seen him around the office these past few years. But then again, I'm not--"

Draco interrupted forcefully, clearly not as worried about being found out as he let on. "Do you even read the paper, Orwell?"

She continued, "--not the best at keeping up with the news."

"Certainly not, especially since he was sitting in the Great Hall, clear as day," Draco said, all curt. Then he pulled out an embroidered handkerchief like some Rococo painting, and Agnes nearly laughed. "I just didn't think we'd run into him here. Don't their lot need sleep? Or better yet, duties to attend to? Well, I don't know. I don't run the castle. Can we please stop talking about this, Orwell?"

Agnes let Draco continue on this for quite a bit, but she eventually decided that to let the man drive himself mad would be awfully rude. "Shouldn't we like to make conversation?"

Perhaps that was a bit more of an inconveniencing idea for Malfoy, Agnes thought, but she'd already said it.

"I really do want to meet Mr. Potter," Agnes said plainly. "And we need to introduce ourselves to the staff. Who knows how long we'll be staying? I know we're a regular Holmes and Watson, but..."

Draco stood up just then, pocketing his novel and purple pansy-dotted cloth. "I'll have none of this. This is a job. Don't stir up trouble."

He said it as if he had some sort of authority, and suddenly Agnes wanted to punch him right in the face, right there in the Three Broomsticks. As he stormed off, Agnes looked with new resolve towards the table in the very corner where Harry Potter and his coworkers were having an innocent time out.

And she really did, she really did just want to take a seat next to all of the hot shots over there, and make jokes about what a dick old Malfoy was, and that kind of thing that Agnes guessed Harry Potter might enjoy, but she was held back, because when she needed most that little touch of swagger, it was nowhere to be seen.

Almost halfway there, she turned back, but nobody noticed. She retired to bed, even though she was still wide awake.

_ ___ _

Klaus Holmwood was really very tired and didn't want to speak with anyone.

That was what he had said to Professor McGonagall, and she, in turn, was beyond frustrated.

"There needs to be some sort of an investigation into what happened to you. I do not wish to hear of any sort of reservations you have of Ministry employees, Mr. Holmwood. I simply want you to cooperate," she said, voice rising up and down in the posh sort of way. She had adjusted her robes with conviction that morning, it seemed-- whatever that meant.

"But Professor!" Klaus lamented, flailing his arms up from his place in his sick bed. "I've got nothing against the Ministry, you know... I don't mean to seem rude, but..."

"Then you won't. Please behave yourself, Mr. Holmwood," McGonagall said, feeling she'd won. "They should be here any moment."

"Fine," the boy said, and you could hear a wand drop in the Hospital Wing after that, aside from Madame Pomfrey's shuffling and changing of bed linens.

The silence was broken by two individuals entering the room, not brashly, and certainly with no dramatic flair. Agnes and Draco were not really sure how to be investigators, and suddenly this plan of Henriksen's felt like an ominous test they were not at all prepared for. It was their second day back at Hogwarts... neither was quite used to it yet.

Draco conversed lightly with McGonagall. Agnes couldn't detect the awkwardness of the exchange for she had already taken a seat on a rickety stool at the foot of the ailing boy's bed, entertaining him the best he could.

"Hello. Klaus, is it?"

Klaus nodded. He was a small kid with mid-toned skin, shy eyes, and neat, dark brown hair. Some trinkets and belongings next to him indicated his status as a Gryffindor.

"I'm Agnes Orwell," she said.

"I know," Klaus replied.

"What year are you, then?" Agnes asked.

"Third."

"Brilliant," said Agnes, wondering how you transition small talk into interrogation, but knowing quite well how to be kind to kids. "Well, I suppose it's brilliant. My third year was quite terrible, actually. There was this woman, evil, I'd say, teaching us all this garbage. She's long gone now; be thankful for that. You've any god-awful teachers this year, Klaus?"

He was a bit shy, shyer than most thirteen-year-olds. He got over it fairly quickly, though. "Well...um, they're all quite great, to be honest. I think Professor Sinistra's a genius, but that might just because I like her course. I'm taking Trelawney's class as an elective this year, and everyone says it's all nonsense, and I probably agree, and Trelawney _is_ certainly off her rocker, but I like the class, mostly for the astrological stuff. It's a lot of fun. Oh! And Harry Potter's come to teach us in Defense Against the Dark Arts. He saved the Wizarding World, you know. He's really good at teaching as well. He's amazing."

"Well, you'll have to get his autograph for me," Agnes said, which Klaus laughed at. "But first, I've got to ask a few questions."

Klaus said alright, although seemed a bit annoyed. He'd certainly already been through this with McGonagall.

"You were attacked?" Agnes began.

The boy cleared his throat, and the air stilled. "Yes. Right after Astronomy class, a few days ago. I wandered off, didn't go straight back to the common room, you know. I don't know who it was. I was struck with a spell from behind..." he drifted.

"And?"

The boy hesitated, but Agnes persisted with her glance. Klaus rolled up one of the sleeves on his striped pajamas and tucked away some gauze, revealing his skin as covered in small cuts. "Just on my arms... some of them were a bit deep; I had to run to the Hospital Wing. Madame Pomfrey said it should only scar a bit, but whatever she put on it hurt a lot. The wounds hadn't closed."

Upon this explanation from Klaus, Draco's eyes widened, and he muttered something to McGonagall. Both were now equally bewildered. Draco strode up quickly, standing next to Agnes and at the foot of the boy's bed, almost looming. Klaus looked worried for the first time since they'd arrived. The sky seemed to darken, despite it being decidedly noon.

"There's been no conclusiveness as to what spell, correct?" he asked the boy.

"Not that I know of," Klaus replied, looking uncomfortably at Malfoy.

"Is it possible?" McGonagall asked. McGonagall and Malfoy were giving each other crazed looks, leaving the victim of the spell and the fellow investigator out of the loop.

"If it's a variation, yes. A concentrated version, forged by someone who understands the unchecked effects..." Draco said, eyes fixed on Klaus's wounds. "Someone who's been researching."

"But how could a student do this?" McGonagall asked. Of course, she had no propensity for underestimation, but in these postbellum times, she wished her pupils weren't capable of things like this.

"You forget how the curse came to be in the first place," Draco said.

At that, Agnes quickly stood up, tired of how tense the room had become. "What are you talking about? What curse?"

Draco Malfoy, for the first time since she'd met him, looked at Agnes like he owed her something. His frantic puzzle-solving turned to somberness, which Agnes had learned to be his version of honesty.

"Sectumsempra."

Agnes redirected her line of sight to the windows, to the moss and the trees. At once, the memories came flooding back to her. First, the rumors, and second, how her house had discussed it "serving him right." The curse's name was never known, but she, in that moment, had put the pieces together, and there wasn't any guilt on Agnes's part, just a reminder. The past was an inevitable part of this partnership, and she didn't know how she felt about that.

But oh, there was a task at hand; there were children in danger! She focused her glance back to Draco once again.

"Well, what does this mean if you're right?" said Agnes, full of new resolve.

Draco was quickly a detective again, situated firmly in the present. He ran his hand through his hair, which almost seemed like an instinct, some scattered mannerism from a different life. "This is calculated. This person has a plan."

There was silence for many seconds. Malfoy and Orwell stood shoulder to shoulder, and Orwell figured it best to take some notes, and so she did that. Malfoy seemed ready to leave.

Orwell wasn't so sure. Klaus was the only source of information they had, and she intended to use him.

"Do you know anyone who might want to hurt you, Klaus?" she asked with the utmost delicacy.

The boy shook his head.

"...Professor, Malfoy... would you mind leaving us for a moment?"

The pair left, but not before eyeing Agnes with a bit of annoyance.

"I can see you don't like my partner very much," Agnes said.

Klaus crossed his arms. He was avoiding eye contact. "It's not about that," he said, quite assured, but he quickly faltered. "It's just... I don't know, he was a Death Eater, wasn't he? Back during the war?"

Agnes paused, before responding with understanding: "Yeah."

"I don't know what happened to me, honest," the boy continued-- it had become clear that it was the correct course of action. "I doubt it's blood-related, though, if that helps anything-- my family and I are all wizards. I'm not the best at school, though, so maybe the attacker made some kind of assumption. Which would be foul, of course."

"You're a Gryffindor, aren't you, Klaus?" Agnes quickly asked, still never adept at subtle transitions.

Klaus was a bit jarred, but his eyes lit up when she mentioned his house. He nodded with bright eyes.

"Who do you talk to? Are they all in your house as well?"

"Not exactly--" he started, but it seemed with that, their time was up. Two girls burst through the Hospital Wing doors, looking suspiciously like third years. These must have been friends of his.

Both were hilariously short, one pale and rosy-cheeked, sporting an unruly mess of golden blonde tendrils; the other dark-skinned with kinky hair pulled into a ponytail.

The golden haired, "Julia Van Andel, it's a pleasure."

The pony-tailed, "... Mara Wright. Are you really a proper investigator? I haven't seen you on the lists of any squads, or something of the like, so I'm not sure why you're here..."

Agnes giggled at the girl's overestimation of Ministry efficiency-- in all honesty, it was a typical move, sending someone so woefully unprepared.

The blonde girl piped up again, "Klaus, oh, Klaus! How I envy you! You've been sitting here all day, and what about me? Listening to Trelawney's meaningless ramblings, being ostracized by Professor Sprout-- the closer she gets to her retirement, she hates me even more, it seems. And what did I ever do?"

"You harvested from the greenhouses without permission," Mara countered. "And Sprout's great, everyone knows that, so she must have the right idea."

"It was  _first year!_ And it was only to properly get revenge on evil Pippa Pendleton," Julia replied, as if revenge on Pippa Pendleton was the most honorable thing on Earth. Both Mara and Klaus nodded in firm agreement. "Besides, if anything my act of rebellion proved that I have a passion for plants! The woman's blind to my talent, really."

Agnes didn't need to see the lion sigil to understand Agnes's status as a Gryffindor, but she was taken aback at the green accents of Mara's robes. Could it really be? Gryffindors and Slytherins, hanging out together? I mean, it was the twenty-first century, but...

"Oh, Orwell, can't we continue this some other time? Professor McGonagall  _promised_ that I would be allowed to have my friends around. I think I've given you all the information I can, anyhow."

"Certainly," Agnes said, taking a moment not to be utterly perplexed at what she was seeing. "I'll be going."

She shuffled out of the classroom, nearly falling over in excitement... Malfoy would  _love_ this.

_ ___ _

They were walking through Hogsmeade, and Draco had just managed to steer Agnes away from the Three Broomsticks.

"It's two o'clock," Draco said. "Are you mad?"

"Well, I figure, there's nowhere to get a good coffee around here, so you might as well have a brew. Only Muggles make good coffee, I tell you."

"Coffee is disgusting," Draco snarled. Agnes looked back up at him, about ready to brawl, so he changed the subject promptly. "Well... is there a chance Holmwood's attacker and the school menace aren't the same person? They seem to be in two different leagues of evil, if you ask me."

"I suppose," Agnes remarked, a bit disinterested. "You know, I'm really amazed. I mean, I know I told you earlier, but a Slytherin and a Gryffindor! Friends! Can you believe that?"

Draco sighed. The pair continued down a winding, leafy road for quite a bit before the elder investigator granted a response. "Who is this mysterious Slytherin traitor, then?" 

Agnes pulled herself up and sat on the edge of the withering, wooden fence, taking a rest. Draco, too, stopped in his tracks, for the first time having to look up at the girl. The Shrieking Shack lay small and almost comforting in the distance. "Her name's Mara Wright. Got a bit of bite to her, as well, but I think it's just because she's smart. But then again, I hardly spoke to her a moment."

"Orwell, you really don't read the paper, do you?" Draco snickered.

"What do you mean?"

"The Prophet ran a story to death a couple of years ago, about the Wright girl," Draco began. "The first Muggleborn Slytherin in a few centuries, I believe. The parents were livid when they found out that the press had been harassing her daughter, forcing quotes out of her, any everything, but of course, it took a bit for them to find out about it. Not really sure what confrontation went on, but the Prophet isn't asking the girl questions these days... but anyhow, it's no wonder she's not exactly enjoying camaraderie with her housemates, even after the war."

"I guess that makes sense," Agnes ventured. "But, I don't know, it's got to be about personality, or something, because I'd never have thought a Slytherin could be friends with anybody else. Except for Ravenclaws, maybe."

"Well, we get along all right, don't we?" Draco offered.

"It wasn't exactly by choice."

They started walking back towards the castle; they might as well be pretending to be doing their jobs.

"So, the case. I suppose we should spend some time observing student life. Who's speaking with whom. Get a sense for things," Draco articulated. "We need to have a plan, I don't just want to be wandering around until the next incident happens."

"Wouldn't it be faster to just ask Harry?"

"Why would Potter know anything?"

"I mean, he teaches here," Agnes reasoned. "And Defense Against the Dark Arts, as well. And he's young, and the kids think he's cool, and everything. All I'm saying is that I'm sure he's a bit more in touch with student life than Professor Binns."

She continued, "We're almost there anyway... let's just go see if he's on break, or in his office, or whatever. We're investigators, we're allowed to, Draco, I promise."

Draco silently surrendered, and soon they were sauntering up to Hogwarts Castle with some semblance of authority.

"Do you ever feel like we've got no idea what we're doing, Orwell?"

"Us? Never, Draco."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't like that sectumsempra business bc it's TRES corny but i'm bored and want to produce content.. suspense . vroom vroom o worm


End file.
